


I Never Wanted You To Come Back To Gotham

by OnceUponASunsetDream



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alfred is nice, Batman Begins - Freeform, Dick Grayson in the Nolan Movies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponASunsetDream/pseuds/OnceUponASunsetDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred Pennyworth was a dedicated butler. He loved the Waynes like they were his own family. So when Bruce left he hoped he didn't come back to the place he felt so much misery. When the call does come, however he gets a surprise. It's not just Bruce waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Never Wanted You To Come Back To Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> I have been fascinated by the idea of what would have happened if Dick was adopted by the Bruce in the Nolan movies. So far this is the only idea to come to me, I have some half-formed ones but if anyone wanted to give me some ideas, I'm open for them!

Alfred J Pennyworth had known and loved Bruce Wayne since before he was born. He had served the Waynes after his father's death and had privately thought of the Wayne family as part of his own. Martha and Thomas were such lovely people and when their son was born Alfred knew that they would be amazing parents. 

And then they died, leaving their young son broken and alone. Well almost alone. Alfred had been there for the boy whose childhood had been stolen but he had always held him at a professional arm's length. Maybe that hadn't been the best approach but now that was neither here nor there. 

Master Bruce had been gone for seven years, long enough to be declared officially dead. The heir of a veritable empire dead in a ditch in some God forsaken country. It broke his heart. Yet Alfred always clung onto the hope that his ward was still alive somewhere. 

It was why he persisted in the perhaps naïve hope that one day, when he visited Florence and sat at that table in the middle of that gorgeous café on the banks of the Arno, he would look around at the other guests and see Master Bruce. The boy that had left would be a man, tall and broad like his father before him, dark hair and blue eyes just the same as always but still, different, happy. His eyes would shine as he looked across at a beautiful woman who would laugh and hold his hand across their table. Beside him might be a small child, a boy? Who would look almost exactly like his father and would bounce in his seat with a grin on his face and innocence simply pouring out of him. There might be another child, perhaps waiting in the mother's belly or maybe a little girl with her hair, blonde like Martha's or black like Bruce's or some other colour from the mother's side, pulled up in pigtails as she scowled at her brother or smiled at her mother.

But he never did see Bruce in that café in Florence so he resigned himself to cleaning and maintaining the manor in Gotham and praying that Master Bruce never came back, even if that meant that he was dead. 

In the end he did come back though and Alfred obediently had the private plane readied and flew to meet with whatever Master Bruce had become in the middle of nowhere. The steps of the plane descended and he moved to the bottom-most one, leaning on the railing as he watched the figure approach in the distance. Finally he came into view and Alfred could finally see Bruce after seven years absence. 

He had indeed filled out, shoulders broad and he had muscles that Thomas never had. He held two battered duffle bags in his hand and his other hand seemed to be holding something behind his back and as he got closer, Alfred saw that there was a small dark haired boy perched on his back. 

That was…unexpected. But possible. Master Bruce had been gone seven years after all and even though he didn't have a good view of the boy he was definitely under ten and over five. Bruce smiled at him and he finally looked…mostly happy. At least he was happy. It made a nice change from the angry boy who had left Gotham seven years ago.

"Master Bruce." he greeted. "It is good to see you again."

"Hello, Alfred. I missed you." he let the boy down and the child clung to Bruce's leg, peering out at him with eyes bluer than the sky but definitely different from Bruce's which were closer to grey than blue. 

"And who is this young fellow?" Alfred asked kindly, bending slightly to get a better look at the child who looked, frankly exhausted but he gave a half-hearted smile and wave. 

"This is Richard Grayson." Bruce said, laying his hand gently on the boy's head. "My adopted son."

Alfred sat opposite Bruce in the plane as it soared across the ocean towards Gotham. The boy, Richard, lay curled on Bruce's lap, finally asleep as Bruce ran his fingers through the boy's dark hair. "So, Master Bruce…" Alfred began.

"How did Richard come into my care?" Bruce finished with a wry smile and Alfred nodded. "I joined a circus a year ago, Haly's circus. They were in France and planning to come back to America so I decided to join them. There was this family, these aerialists, they agreed to teach me some tricks if I, in turn taught their son some things. Fighting, languages, maths, science. Lots of things. It was wonderful." he paused, smiling softly, looking down at the boy in his lap. His face hardened. "Then there was an accident, well not really. The night of a performance, the ropes were sabotaged and John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths. Child Services wouldn't let him stay in the circus so I said that I would adopt him and take him back to Gotham."

Alfred nodded. "It was very good of you." he said. "To take in the boy. I am proud of you."

Bruce huffed a laugh. "Thanks Alfred." he grinned at the elderly man almost mischievously. "So are you ready for an energetic acrobat in the manor?"

Alfred gave Bruce a look. "I suppose I should get out the dusters for the chandelier then?" he asked.

"Probably." Bruce agreed. 

"Yes, you'll be good at getting any fingerprints off the crystal, Master Bruce." Alfred said absently, opening his paper. "After all, I am far too old to be clambering up ladders in the pursuit of grubby marks on the crystal."

Bruce gaped at him for a few moments before he laughed, the sound a lot more real than any Alfred had previously heard from him this day. "Don't ever change Alfred." he said. "Don't ever change."

Alfred looked at his charge over the edge of his paper. "I'll endeavour not to, Master Bruce." he said dryly. 

 

Bruce rubbed a lock of Richard's hair between his fingers. "Thank you, Alfred." he murmured. "Thank you."


End file.
